


Subject 87

by Worffan101



Series: Rachel Connor's story [4]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek Online
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Bisexual Female Character, Blood and Torture, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, This is a story about post-traumatic stress and post-traumatic growth, Torture, read the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-14 04:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worffan101/pseuds/Worffan101
Summary: Rachel Connor is the best of the best, a decorated MACO officer and national hero as well as a badass supersoldier.  But when she's abducted and tortured by Section 31 and renegade MACO Ellen Shaw, she must piece her life back together...Part 1 of a three-part arc; part 2 is "Rock Bottom" and part 3 is "Rachel"Trigger warning: Contains multiple scenes of torture, rape, and physical and emotional abuse.  Please READ THE TAGS and do not read this if you have issues with those.





	Subject 87

**Author's Note:**

> I spent a year and a half all told on this story and its two sequels. I could write a whole essay on the background of this, but basically, I was watching the 2003 Battlestar Galactica remake and didn't like how it handles sexual violence (male-on-female rape and attempted rape is basically used to make male protagonists seem heroic by letting them sympathize with the victims and wax eloquent about how upset they are; I also was disappointed at the missed opportunity for a recovery arc represented by Gina-6 being killed off, and the failure to delve in-depth into the enormity of Cain's actions and just how purposefully, spitefully evil she became). That plus rage at "Justice" Brett Kavanaugh and our orange idiot leader led to this...weird three-part novella. The villain, Shaw, is basically an entitled brat with the personality of a rabid wolverine, and I freely admit that her backstory contains some digs at Kavanaugh and by extension the orange idiot who nominated that scumbag. 
> 
> Please be aware that Rachel is also, like, bugfuck racist against augments, even though she herself is one. This is not a comfortable or happy story, though part 3 ("Rachel") will include a good long bit of catharsis. 
> 
> Thanks again to Starsword-C for beta reading, helping me rework part 3 to not be abrupt, lending me the use of his protagonist Kanril Eleya, and tolerating my agonizing over this whole saga. 
> 
> I have no idea how this is going to be received but I poured my heart and soul into it, so here goes, before I lose my nerve lol.
> 
> Exposition:  
\--Drozana Station: Independent trading hub located in disputed space near the Klingon-Federation border. Currently a free port owned and operated by Ferengi and a smuggling hive. Once got invaded by the malevolent alien Devidiians that sought to eat the "neural energy" of the station's denizens, but was saved by Starfleet officers.  
\--Section 31: Federation-ultranationalist and political unitarianist terrorist group, formerly loosely affiliated with Starfleet. Originally set up as an off-the-books wetwork division by Federation politicians, the group has since gone rogue.  
\--Franklin Drake: Former head of Section 31, as of 2411 imprisoned for numerous crimes ranging from forced medical experimentation and piracy to conspiracy murder and terrorism (see here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12504954/1/Didn-t-Expect-That)
> 
> EDIT 11/4/2019: Fixed dates to better conform with later segments of the story.

_Rachel Connor. August 2411. _

I wake up to bright lights. 

“She’s awake, Agent Lopez.” 

“Good.” A face obscures my vision, and I try to move--but I’m held in place, cold metal holding my limbs and head down. “Test the subject’s pain response.” 

“I don’t know who the _ fuck _ you are, buddy, but I’m gonnaaAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!” The scream tears itself from my mouth as a jolt of pain blasts through my legs, ripping across my nervous system and leaving me shuddering thirty seconds later, flecks of saliva on my cheeks. 

“Who…” I gasp. “Who the fuck…” 

“Log that subject, Yoyodyne Systems advanced biological combat asset model V-87, is disoriented but appears initially intact. Pain tolerance does not appear to be well beyond Human baseline, per recovered data, and etorphine dosage appears to have been entirely metabolized.” The man pulls back, and I crane my head as far as I can as he steps back. He’s a slim Latin guy, maybe 1.6 meters, in a black bodysuit. Oh,_ shit _. Section 31. 

“You can tell Frankie Drake that I’ll…” 

“Gag it,” the agent orders. 

“Yes, Agent Lopez.” I snarl and try to bite, but there’s two huge guys and I’m bound to a biobed; they have a metal ball welded to a leather strap shoved in my mouth and the strap bound around my head in less than fifteen seconds. 

“Log, Senior Operative Antonio Lopez, embedded in Yoyodyne Systems Research and Development. Subject is a genetically-engineered combat asset, proprietary technology of Yoyodyne Systems, experiment number 87, prototype for planned Enhanced Combat Unit model 101. Subject has been recaptured at considerable expense and will be tested for physical capabilities, stripped to base operating processes, reprogrammed, prepared for replication and readied for demonstration to sponsors. End log.” 

Oh, god. They’ve finally found me, I let my guard down for _ minutes _ and they got me…

I think back desperately. My memory’s a little foggy, probably drugs or something, but I think I was on shore leave on Drozana? But what _ happened _? 

“Strip it. The subject is not permitted clothing outside of mission necessities. Then clean it off in the high-pressure hoses and start taking samples.” 

“Sir, we can do that at…” 

“I’m taking no chances. Strip it and get to work.” 

“...yessir.” 

I try to scream as they tug my civvie pants off, try to thrash and pull and _ kill, kill, kill _, but the cuffs are too secure. Eventually, as they realize that they’ll have to cut my civvies off, something breaks inside me, and my head falls back the quarter-inch or so that the head restraints allow me. I don’t resist the rest. 

There’s no hope now. I’m going to be turned into a living weapon and copied into an army, and there’s _ jack shit I can do _. 

* * *

_ Lamont _

_ Personal log, CPO Andrew Lamont, MACO unit 131. Our shore leave on Drozana Station’s been cut short; it looks like Section 31 finally got their grubby hands on Lieutenant Connor. _

Valen’s crying like a faucet, poor girl. Luiz has her cradled in his arms, trying to just let her cry on his shoulder, as K’tar stands around with tissues. Kallio is cleaning his gun with murder in his eyes, and the doc hasn’t even bothered him about having a firearm in his sickbay. 

“What happened?” the Captain demands as she strides in. “Why didn’t Lieutenant Connor report back… oh.” 

“They took her,” Valen hiccups. “They hit me with a phaser and they… they _ took Rachel _!” 

“It happened in the corridor on the way back from the Ferengi bazaar,” I cut in. “Three assailants, from what Ensign Valen remembers. Wearing mental dampeners, that Devore tech that’s been spreading on the black market.” The Orions notoriously used that stuff last year during the Klingon coup, a system of implants and helmets that severely dampen the effects of telepathic senses and attacks with only minimal side effects. Only the best psychic hunters, highly trained Letheans and some of the most experienced Vulcan operatives, can do anything at all against assassins wearing Devore dampeners. 

“I read Fleet briefings, Mr. Lamont.” She slaps her combadge. “Tess, get Hadron on the coms, I want to know _ every _ civvie ship that left within the last fifteen minutes and every one still docked, and I want to know _ now _.” 

“_ Yes. ma’am _.” 

“Good. Kanril out.” She turns back to us. “Section 31, Chief?” 

“Who else wants the Lieutenant so badly?” I ask. 

“Point. They must’ve sent out the call about potential Devidian activity to get us in, then hoped we’d spring for shore leave anyway.” She curses in Bajoran. “My own stupid fault, I should’ve kept everyone on board, it was _ obvious _ something was up.” 

I shrug. “We’ve been working disaster relief and border patrols for over a year, people needed some time off.” 

“Doesn’t excuse this level of security breach.” She swears again. “When I find those _ phekk’ta _ sons of…” She shakes her head. “I need a timetable.” 

“We were walking back from the bazaar about thirteen, maybe fourteen minutes ago,” Valen speaks up, sniffling. “She was looking at some kind of Vaadwaur rifle, but they were asking for lobi crystals--your usual Ferengi nonsense. So we headed back, but Rachel realized we were being followed as we passed a side corridor, she was about to call for backup when I got hit and went down. It was light stun first, I saw them shoot her with drugged darts, then they cuffed her and took her, direct beamout.” 

“Sensor records might have something. That can’t have taken more than a minute, though.” 

“One of the kidnappers kicked Ensign Valen in the face, fracturing her cheekbone and causing a minor concussion,” Doc Wirrpanda cuts in. “That knocked her unconscious until the MACOs arrived. I’ve repaired most of the damage, but I’ll have to insist that she be moved to light duty for a week.” 

“We got in about five minutes later because they were already delayed and I wanted to make sure the Lieutenant was alright personally. There was already a crowd, mostly Ferengi, Luiz and K’tar dispersed them while I checked up on Ensign Valen.” I shake my head. “No sign of the Lieutenant, but there was a poison dart. I grabbed that and passed it to the doc here.” 

“The dart was poisoned with a concentrated dose of a potent tranquilizer called etorphine,” Wirrpanda says, pulling up some tricorder readings on a PADD. “A neurotoxic sedative banned from non-veterinary use due to its extreme toxicity to some Earth primates, including Humans, as well as similar humanoids like Bajorans, Trill, and Betazoids. It’ll kill baseline Humans at the estimated dosage in thirty seconds. The Lieutenant would’ve been immobilized and probably knocked unconscious for some time, a quarter of an hour or more, without need for backup dosages. Her system would compensate, but she’d likely experience lethargy and likely numbness for some time afterwards; you’d probably have to test pain response to see how quickly she cleared it.” 

“Pain response?” Valen asks. 

“Probably shock treatments. Depending on how quick and dirty they’re doing it, they might just go with a painful shock to make sure that she _ can _ feel pain.” Wirrpanda grimaces. “I’m more concerned about what they’ll do when they realize how difficult she is to replicate without the initial research.” 

“We’re going to find her before that happens,” the Captain growls. “Chief Lamont, with me. We’ve got some terrorists to hunt.” 

“Ma’am.” 

***

_ Rachel. Section 31 transport. _

I’m hanging limp, my stomach growling as I run a high fever to counteract the effects of being stripped, power-washed in cold hydro, and hung up by my wrists in a climate-controlled cell, when Lopez comes back. This time, he’s brought a friend. 

“...I assure you, Operator Shaw, that Subject 87 is secured properly this time.” 

“It’s your ass on the line, Lopez, and _ your _ neck she’ll wring like a towel if she gets out.” This voice is rough, higher-pitched, probably female. 

“_ It _, please, Operator Shaw, we must avoid attaching sentient concepts to Subject 87. It is a very expensive weapon, nothing more.” The boots get closer, and Lopez’s voice raises, gaining a touch of smug. “The subject has been left in isolation and starved to break resistance. By the time we arrive at Site Gamma, it should be ready for stage-two conditioning.” 

“Let’s hope so.” The female voice stops in front of my cell, and I raise my head. She’s a stunning blue-eyed redhead, has about ten centimeters and two cup sizes on me. Corded muscle under jet-black outfit, stance is balanced, deceptively calm. Section 31, and trained in hand-to-hand extensively. “Hmph. _ This _ thing is worth seven billion credits?” 

“It and the failed experiments,” Lopez replies. 

“I’m right fucking here, you shit-eating son of a ratfucking Kazon whore,” I snarl. “I don’t know who the _ fuck _ you bastards think you are, but…” 

Lopez presses a button on the wall panel outside, and I shriek in agony as electricity fries half my nervous system. The cuffs strain but hold as I convulse involuntarily, spit bubbling across my cheeks and lips. 

“Got a mouth on her, doesn’t she?” Shaw comments with a grin. “It’ll be an interesting job, breaking this one.” 

“_ Nonsentient pronouns, _ ** _please_ ** , Operator Shaw. The augment is _ not _ a sentient creature and will not be treated as such.” 

I know her voice. The face can be changed, but voice is a _ lot _ harder. “Who… who the _ fuck _’re…” 

“Wait,” the woman says, putting a hand on Lopez’s arm before he can shock me again. “We were in the same service, and I want to have a little fun with her.” 

“Operator Shaw, that’s _ not _ how op-sec…” 

“Screw op-sec, I ain’t beholden to Intel anymore.” She taps the panel, and the forcefield goes down. “I’ve been wondering, you know. _ What makes you so special _?” 

“What?” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “Wha’ d’you mean?” 

“How you haven’t been outed yet. How you got Kanril Eleya to _ capture the Director _ for you. Honestly? I don’t get it, I mean, they kicked me out for _ one little Orion _, and you get to just go back into MACO after years missing in action and nobody outs you?” 

Oh, _ shit _. I know her now. “Ellen Shaw.” 

She gives me a little bow. “_ Commander _ Ellen Shaw.” The youngest in MACO history, in fact. Unprecedented in-species scores on marksmanship, endurance, top score on her solo mission in SERE, valedictorian at the Academy (and they _ never _ give that to MACO cadets), her tactics final was the barometer to which everybody in my year was measured. Hero of the Cardassian Union, Karagite Order of Heroism, Pike Medal of Valor, Bronze Star, Marksmanship Medal in rifle and pistol. She was on all the recruiting vids, she had looks and skills and a really flashy kinda cocky derring-do charisma that Command liked, and there were rumors she was being groomed to be fast-tracked to command ranks. Then in ‘06 she pissed off Command by killing the deputy head of a major Orion slaver ring, went rogue when they called her back for court-martial, and got captured and dragged back by _ ten _ other MACO units, still managed to take down three soldiers before they contained her. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Connor. I honestly expected bigger tits after all the propaganda holos they put you in.” 

“What the hell d’you want with me?” 

“You come back after a couple of years MIA as an obvious augment, and the Federation’s most famous hero puts her career on the line for you. I cut up and kill _ one _ measly little Orion and they court-martial me? _ Me _ ? With more medals than I can even _ fit on my lapel _? And they give a fucking aug the Medal of Honor?” 

“My boys and I saved a few thousand lives, the Captain put us up, after that it was the Council’s decision.” 

“I know _ that _ . I want to know _ what makes you so special _.” 

“You’d know better’n me, your fuckers made me this.” 

“Operator…” Lopez begins. 

“Quiet!” Her hand meets my throat, and I let out a strangled whimper as she squeezes so hard my vertebrae _ creak _ . “I saved thousands of lives, _ too _ ! I defended the Federation across ten thousand light years of space!” She releases me, leaning in close. “What do _ you _ have that I don’t?” 

“I didn’t torture and kill an HVT when specifically ordered to retrieve alive,” I wheeze through my crushed windpipe. It’s barely comprehensible, but enough so that Shaw snarls with rage. 

“You’re a fucking moron, just like those sanctimonious fucking Earth politicos. That bastard whoreson Harras was number 2 in the Kal’Mor syndicate, he’d been running Federation civilians including children in a sex-slave network across fifty systems. He deserved every second of what I gave him and then some.” 

“Orders’r orders.” 

“_ Fuck _ you. They want me to bring in a little shit like that alive so he can lawyer up and get fifteen years for running kids? As little as five with the plea deal the feds were obviously gonna offer? Hell no was I letting him get away.” She shakes her head. “I don’t get it, I really do. You come back an aug and they just let you back in for sucking Paris’s collective dick?” 

“Ea’ shith, I don’ suck upfff.” 

Her fist slams into my naked ribs, and my chest explodes into agony as multiple bones shatter. Fucking _ christ _ , is she an aug too? She’s way too strong to be Human. “Fucking bitch.” She spits in my face. “You goddamn worthless animal, you had everything handed to you on a _ silver fucking platter _ , while I fought and bled and they threw me out for _ being right _ . Harras T’Susza’s not running kids anymore because _ I had the will to act _ when Command was selling out to that shiteating slaver.” 

“An’ sinsh y’killed ‘im, Enyala Kal’mor go’ off shcott-free,” I manage as clearly as I can. “An’ she ran kids for ‘nother half a fuckin’ decade b’for the Klingonsh killed her. Great fuckin’ job, Ms. I’m Sho Goggamn Right.” 

More of my ribs shatter, and I scream in pain, the restraints straining against my supercharged musculature. Right, poking the bear’s a _ bad _ idea. “You fucking _ bitch _ !” Shaw snarls. “We’ll see how smart you are when you’re killing for us because you don’t know anything else _ to _ do.” 

“_ Operator Shaw _ , I _ must _ insist on professional…” 

“Shut up, Lopez, I outrank you here.” Shaw leans in close with a sneer. 

I chuckle weakly. “Your fuckin’ crazy doc thought somethin’ like that, y’know. He’sh dead. My brain, you can’t control it.” I cough, and moan in pain as blood flecks my lips. 

“Don’t worry,” Shaw chuckles. “We aren’t doing that. Back to basics, bitch. We’re gonna break you down to the animal you are and train you like a fucking dog. Lopez, knock this dumb aug-rat out.” 

The electricity hits me, and even my adapted system shorts out from a pulse strong enough to set my hair on fire. 

***

_ Lamont. Drozana Station. _

The Captain’s in a killing mood, and Belan can clearly see it. She doesn’t even need Korekh’s death glare. 

“Look, I don’t know anything about what happened,” the Ferengi spills after about two microseconds of the Captain storming up to his bar. “There were a couple of shifty types hanging around, this is a free market, it happens!” 

“Save it,” she snarls. “Which ship and how much did they pay you?” 

“I didn’t take any bribes, I swear! They were too shady, I’m a legitimate businessman, why do you think I tipped Starfleet off to the Lobi slavers? Hey, I’ll tell you what I can remember, they were Human, I think. So not the _ Bok’nor _ , that was an all-Cardassian ship, even the passengers, but there were two with Humans on the crew that left after the attack, the _ Juniper _ and _ Sarawak _ . I can’t tell you more, _ please _ don’t take me into custody, business is bad enough with that whole Devidian mess two years ago…” 

“You don’t know _ anything _ more? Names, planned flight path, anything at all?” 

The Ferengi shakes his head. “No, Captain. Look, I’m sorry, I’m doing everything I can, free of charge even since you Feds saved my customer base from being eaten by space ghosts, but I have to respect people’s privacy if I want repeat business, and if I don’t ask and they don’t spill anything I can’t help you.” 

The Captain narrows her eyes, then nods, once. “Thanks for your help.” She spins on her heel, and Korekh and I fall in behind her. 

“Odds on her just spacing whoever did it?” I ask quietly as we head for the transporters. Korekh half-frowns pensively for a moment. 

“Nine to one against. There is valuable information that can be recovered from the culprits.” 

“Good point.” I shake my head. “Mother of God. I thought handing Franklin Drake over to Intel would stop this mess.” 

“You are not familiar with Section 31’s operational structure?” 

“I never really considered joining a terrorist group, no.” 

He gives a single quiet huff that sounds like a chuckle. “It is a cellular organization, designed to survive the destruction or capture of some units or the loss of its leader. No doubt there were contingency plans in case of Drake’s capture.”

“So we’ve got a few hundred independent little gangs of terrorists to hunt down. _ Amazing _.” 

Korekh offers another lone chuckle, then becomes serious again. “We will find Lieutenant Connor. Thanks to Ensign Valen, we have a lead--the Devore technology that the Section 31 operatives used to mask their approach. That technology is not common, and is strictly regulated. Distributors are few and have short lists.” 

“That means hunting smugglers,” I note. “But you’re a cop, so we have an advantage.” 

“Precisely. I have three primary suspects, but can contact some old colleagues for more potentials, then follow up with my contacts.” His face twitches, might be a grimace. “Unfortunately, that and narrowing down the list will take time.” 

“How long?” 

He shakes his head slightly. “At most, two weeks. More likely one and a half. Either way, I hope that the Section 31 ship left a trace.” 

“So do I,” I mutter. But I know our chances aren’t very good. 

***

_ Rachel. Section 31 black site. _

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Shaw asks. 

“Rachel Connor, Lieutenant, serial number…” The shock hits me, and I scream in agony. Shaw checks the readout as I gasp for breath, my system starting to compensate. 

“Hmm. How many fingers am I holding up, Subject 87?” 

“Rachel Connor, Lieutenant, serial number…” She’s got a knife, and she rips a nine-inch gash across my gut. I gasp in pain and strain against the cuffs as I try to buckle instinctively. 

“How many fingers, Subject?” My blood splatters on the floor, my torso shuddering involuntarily as I struggle not to scream. 

“Eat shit an’ die.” 

She backhands me, and I see stars as the back of my head hits the wall. There’s a _ thrum _, and high-pressure water, ice-cold, blasts me in the face, and I feel the cut in my abdomen split further as I’m slammed against the wall. Shaw steps back forwards as the water drips off of me, blood pouring out of me as I gasp for breath. 

“How many fingers?” She sprays coagulant across the cut; it stings, but better than bleeding out when I’m already so short on fuel. 

“Eleven.” 

“Subject is persistently defiant. Permission to continue?” She’s _ pissed _, and I feel a thrill of victory through the agony at the frustration in her tone. 

“_ Continue to Plan B, please, Operator Shaw, _” Lopez says over the com. Shaw grunts, grabs something from her box of horrors, and…

I scream and spasm reflexively as it hits me down below. Shaw’s hand slams into my neck and I’m forced back against the wall, and I feel my insides tear as she rams something into me, once, twice. I can _ smell _ the visceral glee coming off of her, it makes me want to vomit. 

“_ There _ ’s a reaction. Maybe it _ is _ more than an animal.” She twists the thing inside me and I scream again, straining against the cuffs. “It can’t do shit, though. Look at it. All that strength, and here it is _ powerless _.” She rams into me again, and something tears inside. “Powerless to stop me.” 

I thrash, and her impossibly strong arm jerks back instinctively as I snap ferally for any bit of her my razor-sharp teeth can reach. My gut tears open again, and I feel my wrists slicing against the cuffs as I thrash. 

Shaw’s grin is flawless, her teeth white as snow and professionally straightened. “There we go. Now we get the beast.” Her right shoves my chest back against the wall as her left comes up to stroke my jaw. “I’ll admit, Lopez, nice design on the jaw here, though it might be hard for it to pretend it isn’t an animal when we’re controlling it.” 

“Fuckin’ kill you,” I snarl. “Kill, eat, fuckin’ burn, you’re dead, gonna…” 

A couple of my teeth shatter as she punches me in the face. “_ Subject will remain silent unless addressed, _” Lopez’s voice says over the intercom. 

“Fughyou.” I scream again as she slices one of my breasts open. 

“_ Subject will cease resistance. Subject’s resistance is futile. Subject has no power here. _” 

I snarl incoherently and lash out with my teeth. Shaw yells in surprise as I get her hand, she got too close--the knife tears a ragged gash through my cheek, but my remaining teeth sink into her hand. 

“Fucking _ bitch _ !” I see stars as her other fist hammers me in the eye, and there’s a _ crunch _ and an explosion of pain as my cheekbone pulverizes. I blink as best I can, whimpering in pain and half-snarling in rage. There’s a glint of metal shining through the blood and torn skin on Shaw’s hand, and she glares murder at me. “Lopez, how hard can I beat it before it dies?” 

“_ That is currently uncertain. You are authorized to determine the subject’s ability to survive trauma by trial and error. _” 

Shaw grins, and it’s empty of all pity. “Thanks.” One of the goons runs a protoplaser over her hand, the cybernetic skeleton disappearing. “This thing just pissed me off.” 

***

_ Lamont _

_ Personal log, CPO Lamont. We’ve been hunting Lieutenant Connor’s kidnappers for days, but we lost the trail corewards of the Donatu sector. The Captain’s talking to a Starfleet Intelligence operative who used to work with the Lieutenant, but we have limited time before our regular duties will force us to get back to scheduled patrols. _

I see my target the moment I hit the bar, and sidle up behind her before she even turns her head. “Ensign.” 

Valen whirls, lips peeling back in a snarl, then stops herself. “Chief Lamont.” 

“You doing alright, sir?” 

She laughs tonelessly. “What do you think?” 

I nod. “I figured as much. You want some help dealing with it.” 

“Help?” 

“Well, more like blowing off a little steam. You probably aren’t up to the level the Lieutenant has us train at, but if you feel the way I think you do a combat sim’s a good way to keep yourself on point.” 

She sets aside her drink with a groan. “It’s bad enough that a MACO who rooms halfway across the ship notices?” 

I shrug. “I keep up on people, sir. You and the Lieutenant are close, stands to reason you’re not at your best.” 

“Fair enough. What did you have in mind?” 

I raise a holodeck chip. “Custom training sim the Lieutenant and K’tar’ve been working on. Raid on a Section 31 covert installation. Kallio’s busy but Luiz and K’tar are already suiting up.” 

“You’re seriously thinking of bringing _ me _, a xenobiologist with minimal combat training?” 

“Not on the mission, maybe, we’ve got Aly Gantumur to fill the spot and she’ll do in a pinch. Or maybe Hohenzollern, she’s a decent markswoman. Not ideal, given how MACO units operate, but more than good enough. But this is about keeping you stable.” 

“Stable.” She spits it. “I know I’ve got a job to do, but it’s pretty _ fucking _ hard to think about bacteria when Rachel’s been in the hands of terrorists for the better part of a _ week _!” 

I nod along. “I understand. Maybe shooting some Section 31 goons’ll help?” 

“Hmm.” 

“Can’t hurt, at least?” 

She grimaces, but nods at that. “Can’t fault your logic, Mr. Lamont.” 

“I don’t know if I’m ready to out-logic a Vulcan, but I like to think what I say makes sense.” My attempt to lighten the mood falls flat. “Come on. I’ll get you set up with a spare training suit and we’ll work off some tension.” 

She stares into her glass, and after a moment she sighs. “Oh, Fire. What do I have to lose?” 

***

_ Rachel. Section 31 black site _. 

They haul me out of the cell some time later. I’m still caked in my own dried blood, shit, and fluids. The plating’s mostly reabsorbed, they left me something that tasted godawful to eat. I wish I had any clue where we are. 

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Shaw asks as my head is forced back against the wall. She’s holding her knife. I shudder, and I hear one of the SERE instructors yelling in my ear. I can do this, just don’t give them any information…

“Seventeen.” 

Shaw’s knife slices into my vagina as she rams it up inside me, and I scream in pain. “How many fingers, Subject?” 

“Four!” I sob. “Four, goddamn it! I’ll do what you want, just don’t...don’t do it again.” I’m a fucking coward. I’m just a fucking animal, weak and undisciplined…

“Wrong,” Shaw hisses, and she twists the knife. “I’m holding up five.” 

I squint at the fingers. Definitely four. “But…” 

“_ If Subject 87 answers as requested, corrective treatment will cease _.” 

My blood runs cold, and I shake my head against the restraints. “Four fingers.” _ Don’t give them anything, don’t give them anything _, I just need to stay clammed up, anything they do to me is fine if I don’t spill intel...

Shaw pulls the knife out and carves one of my breasts open, and a high-pitched wail escapes me despite my best attempts to keep it in. “No, you stupid creature. There are five.” 

“Four fingers…” The knife slices into my shoulder, ripping off a bit of plating that still hasn’t been reabsorbed. “Four fingers!” 

She puts the knife down, rams two metal fingers inside me, curls up into the gash she already made with her knife, and _ tears _ . “Five! Five! _ Five fingers, just please make it stop _!” My voice cracks, and I sob as I slump limply in the cuffs. 

Shaw chuckles. “Figured as much. It’s not the best-trained dog there is, but at least the bitch takes orders.” 

She leaves, still chuckling, and Lopez slips in past her as she makes the doorway. “Clean Subject 87 up and prep it for conditioning,” he orders his goons. I don’t resist as they roughly patch me up and inject me with a drug cocktail to hold off the adaptation. Why bother? It’s not like anyone’s going to save me. 

***

_ Shaw. _

_ Personal log, Operator Ellen Shaw, attached to Project Sammael. The aug’s broken. Let’s see if the little shithead’s off his rocker or not. This base is still too goddamn small, I can’t wait until this damn mission’s done. _

“I don’t get it,” I tell Lopez. The creepy little bastard takes a little too long to look up, and I tap my tritanium-boned fingers on the table to get his attention away from the PADD. “You and I don’t get along, ‘cause you’re a creepy little shit and I don’t like bullshit. Hell, you have to know I complained to the Deputy Director about your shit with calling the aug “it”. So, why me? Why pick me, specifically?” 

He sips his tea with a reflective look on his ice-cold face. Slimy fucker’s got nerve. “Quite simply, I felt that your unique psychosis would be useful.” 

“Psychosis?” I scoff. “Pal, you’ve got it the wrong way ‘round, that thing down in the cells is the psychotic one. Probably you, too.” 

He shrugs with a little smile. “Oh, of course, though I disagree with you on the matter of Subject 87. You, however, are altogether just similar enough to me to be useful without being so similar that we do not function as a team.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“You like to hurt people,” he says simply. “You are loud, passionate, and callous. I am… well, soft-spoken, not the best suited to be the proverbial bad cop. I lack the force and physicality and suitably, well, loud voice to function as an instantly recognizable stimulus to the subject.” 

“I don’t like to kill people,” I shoot back. I oughta wring the little cunt’s neck. “I do shit like this for the Federation’s safety. It’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it.” 

“Perhaps.” He smirks again, and I want to wipe it off his face and punch some emotion into those dead eyes. They glitter in the light like obsidian, and I shiver, wondering just how much Betazoid’s in his family. “But I think not. Your record is clear, Operator Shaw. You are markedly quick to violence, and to judge. You have a tendency to, shall we say, play with your food--several mission recordings show you intentionally shooting to disable before the kill shot.” He sets his stupid little china cup down daintily. “I monitor my treatment sessions closely, Operator Shaw. Professional pride. And I know that you enjoy it.” 

I ram my chair back, standing ramrod straight. “_ You’re a fucking liar _.” 

“Believe me or not, you remain useful to me under these circumstances.” He turns back to the PADD, and _ God _ I want to crush his arrogant spine. “The simple fact of the matter, Operator Shaw, is that you do not _ object _ to performing cruel acts. The sort of person traditionally described as ‘good’ will, in my experience, typically object strenuously to acts considered immoral, but will perform them if given no other choice. Tell me, Operator Shaw, when was the last time that you objected to torturing Subject 87?” 

“Subject 87 isn’t a person, it’s an aug.” 

He waves a hand dismissively, not looking up. “Semantics. It looks like a person, talks like a person, to put it crudely your brain codes it as a person. You certainly would not object if Subject 87 had green skin, now, would you?” He takes a dainty little sip of his tea. “You have never objected to violence, have you?” 

“I’m doing this for the right reasons! Some other person can be all goody-goody, but when those morons in the civvie government are gonna let Harras fucking T’Susza just waltz…” 

“Not my point.” The icy little cunt looks up, the cup of tea coming down firmly. “Subject 87 kills, and gladly so. Subject 87 kills out of love for the Federation and dedication to its people. I’ve looked at its record; it was in broadly similar, if less high-profile, situations before, including a capture-or-kill during a Cardassian Third Empire raid on a civilian science station near Kora II. It complied with orders _ and _ successfully retrieved the Cardassian leader alive despite orders to capture or kill as convenient.” 

“So it’s a fuckpuppet of some Earthie politico…” 

“Oh, _ please _ .” I can almost hear emotion in that cold voice. “It will be arrested if it takes a single step onto Earth as an open augment. It’s _ loyal _ , Operator Shaw. There’s a difference. You’re so desperate to blame Earth for all of your problems that you fail to comprehend Subject 87’s loyalty. You fail to consider _ why _ you were court-martialed…” 

“I did the right thing!” 

“Debatable.” God I fucking hate this little sack of shit. “Either way, it is irrelevant to my purposes. You are here to dehumanize Subject 87 for conditioning and as a safeguard against a potential escape.” He stands, tucking his PADD away, and picks up his teacup and saucer, face coldly blank. “It is irrelevant to me if you accept or continue to deny your nature. I see no point in continuing this discussion. Good day.” 

And he leaves. Little asshole just fucking _ leaves _ me there, steaming mad. Doesn’t run, doesn’t trot, walks calmly and slowly like he was ambling out to bed. And he knows I can’t just kill him, Director’s orders. 

I snarl and rip the table in half, the pistons in my arms tapping near max, then throw the bits into the wall. “Smug _ sack of shit! _” One of Lopez’s dimwit goons pokes a head in the door, and runs like hell as I turn towards him like lightning. 

_ Fuck! _ And I can’t even take out my frustration on Subject 87, Lopez has a fucking _ schedule _ for torturing it now that we’ve broken it. 

***

_ Rachel _

I hit the ground, hands and knees, and Shaw jerks the leash tight around my neck. “Heel,” she sneers. I know better than to protest, all it’ll do is get me cut up. I try not to shake with hunger too much; they’ve starved me for hours at least, lost track of time down here, and I’ve already burned most of what meager fat reserves I have left. 

“Log, Operative Lopez. Subject 87, compliance test three.” He motions to one of his goons. “Bring in the prisoner.” 

“Sir.” The goon buzzes in a couple of other thugs, carrying a woman in, her arms and legs tied (arms behind her), and hood over her head. She’s wearing a Fleet uniform, science division. 

“Hood off,” Lopez orders. The woman’s shoved into a chair and the hood ripped off; god, she looks like my sister, _ too _ much like my sister, oh god that’s Amy’s face how did she get out here, fuck, no, no, and she’s wide-eyed and makes a muffled sound of terror through the gag, and I pull back, but Shaw jerks hard on the leash and I go quiet because I don’t want to choke again. 

“Begin compliance test.” Lopez’s voice is still cold. 

Shaw crouches down beside me, the leash slackening, and she cups me under my chin. I know better than to shy away. Her breath hits my ear, and…

“_ Kill _, girl.” 

I shudder, tensing as I instinctively flinch from the blows that I know are coming if I defy her. “I won’t…” I cut off into a scream as her metal-boned fingers dig into me cruelly, and lurch forwards. 

“I said _ kill _!” She stands easily, snapping the leash whip-like across my back, and I stumble towards the woman in the chair, she’s screaming through the gag now as she sees my serrated teeth, and I won’t kill for them, I won’t… 

“Kill, you dumb animal, or I whip you bloody again!” The leash snaps across me again. I try to pull back, and Shaw digs a stun-stick into my side, and I scream in pain as the electricity hits. “Bad girl! Kill!” 

Something breaks deep within me, and I lunge forwards, if I kill her the pain stops, if I kill her the pain stops…

The woman tears like wet cardboard under me, her neck tickling at my lips oddly as I tear into her throat, can’t taste the blood, what’s wrong, I must’ve broken under the strain… 

My breath cuts off and my head snaps back as Shaw yanks hard on the leash, and I’m pulled backwards. I see blood fountaining into the air from the corpse, and my limbs stop working, my body crumpling into the ground as the shock hits me. 

I shudder there, naked on the ground, blood trickling from the spot in my side where Shaw grabbed me, and her boots pace slowly around to halt in front of me. She crouches, and forces me to look up into her pitiless grin. 

“Good girl.” 

I go for her throat, and it’s almost worth the next ten minutes of merciless beating. 

***

_ Shaw _

“What I don’t get,” I growl, “is why the torture? Couldn’t we use an implant or something?” 

Lopez shakes his head. “Subject 87’s blood and interstitial fluids are highly corrosive to metals and plastics, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” 

“Yeah, and she ain’t exactly easy on the skin.” 

“Precisely. An implant would dissolve. Her metabolism is too fast for drugs. Borg technology—well, she was specifically designed to be impossible to assimilate, and _ that _ is one of the primary reasons that the Director wants her duplicated.” The little psycho smirks. Well, sort of. It looks more like a robot trying to fake being human attempting to imitate a smile, and _ god _ it’s creepy. “Therefore, we must use more traditional methods.” He takes a sip from his tea as he walks, PADD held firmly under his arm. “Also, I needed to test my training methods.” 

“You’re a sick fuck.” 

Lopez raises an eyebrow. “Go get your tools and prepare to train the subject, Operator Shaw.” 

I hate the way that guy thinks I am. 

_ I’m doing this for the Federation _ , I tell myself as I pick up a shock baton, spiked prod, and the augment’s leash. _ I don’t like it. Sometimes you gotta do dirty things to protect your country _. 

The augment’s curled up in the corner of its cell when I enter, a couple of the security goons ready behind me with phasers. “On your knees, bitch!” I bark, and the aug-rat jerks spasmodically, pulling itself to its hands and knees. It’s still covered in its own dried blood, and I curl my lip; dirty fucking animal. 

It’s shaking, and tries to shy away as I clip the leash on, so I give it a jab of the shock baton, and it screams and collapses. I clip the leash on and jerk at it. “Heel!” 

It obeys, shakily following me on hands and knees. It makes a whimpering sound, and I jab it with the prod. “Quiet, bitch!” 

It snuffles but shuts up. Thank _ fuck _, I hate it when they don’t listen properly. 

Lopez is still sipping his tea when I get to the holodeck, one of the goons holding his saucer as Lopez holds the PADD in his free hand. “Log, Operative Lopez, Subject 87, compliance test 7. Begin the briefing.” 

I jab the aug with the shock baton, and it jerks its head up with a muffled groan of pain while Lopez hands his dainty little teacup to the guy he has carrying his gorram saucer. “Subject 87 will speak when addressed. Is Subject 87 cognizant of its surroundings?” 

“Yes, sir.” Its voice is toneless and gaze empty. I bite my lip as I feel a little shiver; I _ don’t _ like this, damn it. Wish I could have a little time to myself with this thing, though. 

“Subject 87 will address controller as Controller. Is Subject 87 cognizant of its surroundings?” 

It shifts, trying to muster up the courage to resist. I jab it with the prod, in the soft part of its side, and it whimpers, then nods. “Yes, Controller.” 

“Good girl,” I tell it, and it shudders. 

“Subject 87 will comply with Controller’s directives,” Lopez states. The augment hesitates, just for a second, and I jab it again with the prod. 

“Y...Yes, Controller.” 

“Controller directs that Subject 87 terminate the target described in this folder.” He hands a PADD with a file open over. I pass it down to the aug, and it takes the device without complaint (helped by me raising the shock baton threateningly).

“Subject 87 will state its target.” 

“Secretary of the Exterior Shad Ona,” the augment confirms, voice cold and dead. 

“Subject 87 will comply with orders delivered from Controller via PADD.” 

It doesn’t hesitate, eyes empty and dead. “Yes, Controller.” 

Goddamn, that’s hot. 

“Subject will repeat orders for confirmation.” 

“I am to…” I stab the shock wand into the aug’s ass-crack, and it screams. 

“Subject does not use first-person pronouns. Subject is not sentient.” Lopez explains it calmly, like the aug is a stupid kid and he’s a preschool teacher. 

“I’m not…” I jab it with the spiked prod, punching a hole in its glute, and it wails as I twist the spike. 

“Subject cannot resist. Subject is an animal to be trained, nothing more.” Lopez waves to one of his security goons. “Get me another tea, oolong with peppermint.” 

“I…” the augment begins. I jab the spiked probe in, and tap the metal part with the shock baton. The aug screams in agony and collapses, shuddering as it bleeds from the holes I’ve made with the spiked probe. 

“Subject cannot resist.” 

“Y...yes…” it begs. “Yes, Controller. Please make it…” 

I shock it, and it just gasps, not even screaming anymore. 

“Operator Shaw, increase the wattage. Its systems are beginning to adapt. Subject will state compliance.” 

“S...subject will terminate Secretary Shad,” it whispers. 

“Subject will restate assigned directives, more clearly this time.” The goon comes back in with Lopez’s tea, and he takes a sip. 

“Subject...will terminate S-secretary Shad,” the augment manages, louder this time. 

“Subject will restate assigned directives.” Lopez takes another sip and sets the teacup back onto the saucer his goon’s holding for him. 

“Subject will terminate Secretary Shad!” the creature wails, sobbing. Lopez doesn’t even smile, the cold fucker. 

“Subject will proceed to the prep room and begin mission.” He waves me and the aug-rat into the next part of the holodeck. This should be fun. 

“One moment, Operator Shaw.” I pause, then pass the aug’s leash to a couple of the goons. 

“Yeah?” 

He doesn’t really smile as the doors swish shut behind me. It’s more like if a robot that had never met people tried to fake a smile but didn’t quite know how, and the not-smile doesn’t even reach his eyes. “Two weeks, Operator Shaw. Now it is ours.” 

I snort. “You’ll get better results from me.” 

“Debatable.” God I want to choke him like a bitch. “More importantly, the Lieutenant can be replicated. Once we’ve cracked the augmentations, reproduced the work done to her, we can have an army of that to kill whatever we need.” 

I suppress a shudder, but his not-smile sharpens as he sees. “That bothers you, Operator Shaw?” 

“Yeah,” I admit, and I probably shouldn’t be honest with this fucker, but… “That thing’s messed up. You’d need to get it to hate itself less first. As-is...I don’t think that the torture and training’s gonna stick.” 

“You _ continue _ to doubt me.” There’s a flash of something in those cold eyes, the first time I’ve seen proper emotion out of Lopez. It’s not anger or hate, really, I don’t think he can feel those. But something like that. 

“Yeah, I do. You can break it down, but that needs constant reinforcement. It’s scared shitless of me, but that’s because I knifed it, shocked it, stuck a knife up its vag and ripped it up--that’s shit people can recover from. You take that thing into the field, eventually it’ll start thinking like a person again, and there’s no point if you keep it starved and naked in a cell. Like using a TR-20 phaser as a hammer.” 

“Conditioning will of course continue for several months to a year. There will be no recovery from that.” 

“I don’t know.” I turn halfway and frown at the door. “I think that…” 

The door swishes open, and one of Lopez’s goons stumbles out, covered in blood and with his throat torn out, then he collapses on the floor. I’m in motion even as the augment pursues, the mangled body of another one of Lopez’s guys on the ground behind it, and I punch the animal in the midsection. It’s covered in that carapace stuff and the mangled remains of its own skin, must’ve adapted to the stabbing. _ Fuck _ ! We didn’t dose it, who the hell forgot its suppressants. _ Basic fucking oversight, goddamn it! _

My cybernetics push me well beyond the Human baseline; one hit sends the animal reeling, and I lunge, bringing it to the ground and slamming one hand to its throat while kneeling on its armored chest. “Heel, bitch!” I snarl, and its eyes go wide. “Heel or I beat your ass!” 

It whimpers, slumping. “Sorry, Imsorry, please don’t hurt, please…” 

I punch it in the jaw, shattering its teeth. “Speak when spoken to, aug-rat!” It goes limp, sobbing in pain, and I turn my head to Lopez with a glare. 

“Perhaps more time is necessary,” the cold fucker admits. “Punish it at your leisure until dinner bell, then lock it in its cage without food.” 

“Fine.” I haul the animal up, and throw it halfway across the holodeck towards the exit, where it lies, shuddering and useless like a fucking lump. “But I get to say, _ I told you so _.” 

***

_ Eleana _ . _ USS _ Bajor _ . _

_ Personal log, Ensign Eleana Valen, Exobiology. Two weeks and no sign of Rachel. I know Security’s searching high and low for her, but it’s not enough. Less than a day until we go back on patrol. Sef, this hurts. We’re going to abandon her to those bastards. And I could’ve prevented this all if I’d been paying attention on Drozana. _

My glass hits the table hard enough to crack it. Ivanashvilli shoots me a worried look, and I can feel the reproach emanating from her. 

“You alright, Valen?” 

I down another shot and curse in Rihan. “What the Fire do you think, Tanya? My girlfriend’s been kidnapped by a gang of thugs, and I can do _ nothing _ .” I shake my head, tears springing up. “The MACOs took me to the holodeck to practice shooting, helped a bit but it’s not _ enough _.” 

“She wouldn’t want you getting drunk, though.” I turn halfway and raise an eyebrow. Tanya crosses her arms. “Lieutenant Connor? She’d want you doing _ something _ constructive, even if it’s just your job. I’ve overheard you two talking enough to know that she’s got a gigantic stick up her ass about duty, and that she doesn’t get plastered during duty hours.” 

“S’not _ during _ duty hours, went off-duty five minutes ago.” 

“You’ve been here for at least half an hour. Pren Moro down in Maintenance is doing Pam from Security’s roommate, and Pam dropped by the lab to ask if I knew you were here ‘cause Pren told her he saw you sulking in here.” 

I groan and rest my forehead on the table. “I swear, the rumor mill on this ship…” 

Tanya chuckles. “Only thing faster than the warp drive.” She sits down beside me and leans in closer to my ear, voice going quiet. “Hey. You left me hanging in the lab today, and you’re _ always _ the responsible one.” 

“Yeah.” I wince. “I’m sorry about that.” I rub my eyes, and curse quietly as my mascara starts to come off. 

“You’re serious about this girl.” It’s not a question. 

“Yeah.” I chuckle morosely. “Just my luck, right? I get serious and she gets kidnapped. That’s gotta be the second-worst luck in the galaxy. Maybe third.” 

“I dunno, I can think of three or four worse things. Not many, though. But hey. You’re a smart woman, biologist with two degrees and a chess medal. You could try to figure out what they want with her…” 

“We know that. They want to, uh, use some stuff she’s got inside her to make an army.” 

“It’s always something like that,” Tanya mutters. “Why can’t they want to heal the universe with the Borg tech and stuff, that would at least be a good reason…Hey! Valen, did you get an empathic read off of the guys who attacked you and Lieutenant Connor?” 

I shake my head. “No. They had Devore tech, telepathy-blocking. Lieutenant Korekh was trying to track…” I pause, frowning. “...track the Devore tech...hang on…” 

“What?” Tanya asks. 

“Did Security follow up on the tranquilizer?” 

“I think so. I mean, I’d assume…” 

“Yeah. Yeah, never mind.” I slump. “Damn it. Thought I was onto something there.” 

“It’s alright,” Tanya reassures me. “Besides, you’re dating a badass MACO who helped save the Federation, she’s tough, right?” 

“Yeah, but…” I grimace. “She has some issues. Personal stuff. And they know about it, and they’re going to use it against her. That, and there’s a good chance they’ll…” My mouth tastes like acid. “The reason they want her is to break her and make her work for them. She’d never do that willingly so they’d have to systematically destroy her identity. And that means…” 

“Oh.” Tanya goes white. “We’ll find her,” she insists after a moment. “You know how the Captain gets sometimes.” I know. Ship’s scuttlebutt exaggerates a bit, but according to Rachel not by much. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I confess. “I’m worried we’ll be _ too late _.” 

Then my combadge chirps. “_ Lamont to Ensign Valen _.” 

I slap my badge. “Valen here.” 

“_ Sir, Lieutenant Korekh just called senior staff and security personnel for a briefing. I think we’ve found her _.” 

I’m halfway out the room before Tanya has the presence of mind to shout for me to wait. 

***

_ Lamont. USS _ Bajor _ . _

“We have them,” Korekh announces with an almost-grin once we’re all seated. “A Section 31 base is located in the Dace system, and we have tracked the disguised freighter to the third planet.” 

“You’re certain that the Lieutenant’s there?” the Captain asks. 

“As certain as we can be,” Korekh replies. “She may have already been transferred elsewhere, but this facility is our best hope of retrieving her.” 

“Alright, then.” The Captain turns to me and Gantumur. “I’m thinking take down the shields, then ground assault. Lieutenant, Chief?” 

Gantumur looks over to me, and I grimace. “I don’t want to try a commando strike against terrorists with four men and no officer. If we have a ship in orbit, infantry assault is better in my opinion--they won’t selfdestruct, Lieutenant Connor’s too valuable to them.” 

“Agreed,” Gantumur nods. “Full assault, DUELIST hardsuits for the assault unit, heavier models for the MACOs and myself since we’re more used to heavy motorized hardsuits. Three squads’ worth, assault troops and designated marksmen.” 

“Two heavy-weapons guys, I think, crowd-control weapons?” I offer. 

Korekh rumbles approvingly at that, and Gantumur nods again. “Bring a tech, I’ll bring two, plus about a dozen assault troops…” 

“That ought to give us a decent shot. How big is the facility, sir?” 

“No larger than a landed _ Sovereign _-class starship, to avoid spy satellites and patrols in the region,” Korekh states. I look to Gantumur, who nods. 

“We have enough. Can’t be more than a couple of dozen of them, we go in with superior tech we can take them.” 

“Good,” the Captain says. “Then let’s go hunt some terrorists.” 

***

_ Shaw _ . _ Section 31 black site _. 

I wake up to blaring alarms. 

My sensory implants kick me awake in seconds, and I recognize the alert. _ Incoming ship _. Enemy contact. 

I’m out of bed and throwing on a bra and some body armor moments later. _ Shit! _ Is it _ Bajor _? Intel? I know Intel has cloakships now, so probably not them…

I’m out the door before the hapless idiot Lopez sent to wake me up even knocks. “Get to the defenses, now!” I snap, then buckle on my breastplate as I head for the operations center. It’s a smallish base, so it takes less than half a minute. Lopez is there already, and for once he doesn’t look like he’s in complete control. 

“What’ve we got?” 

“_ Galaxy _ -class starship just dropped out of warp, IFF coming back as USS _ Bajor _,” one of Lopez’s guys reports from the sensor station. “Sir, they’re not hailing us.” 

“Hail them, standard flag,” Lopez orders. 

“No response.” 

“Hail again, tell them we’re civilians.” 

A pause, then…

“Getting a response!” 

“On screen!” 

I know the green-eyed Bajoran whose face shows up on the viewscreen. The woman who brought down the Iconia Sphere and saved our civilization is perched on the edge of her seat in undress blacks, a veritable starfield of combat ‘V’s glittering on her party salad.

And she is _ furious _ . “ _ This is Captain Kanril Eleya of the Federation Starship _ Bajor,” she growls. “ _ You’ve got one chance to surrender. Give me back my officer _ now _ and you’ll get prison _.” 

“This is a civilian facility, the property of Yoyodyne Systems!” Lopez retorts, attempting to fake outrage. Downside of being a psycho like him, something sounds a little off about it. “What the Hell are you playing at, Captain?” 

“_ Vole shit. This is a Section 31 facility, and you’re holding a Federation officer captive. Ten seconds to decide. _” 

“Ten seconds to weapons range!” the sensor man hisses. Lopez shushes him with a sharp gesture. 

“Captain, I am not aware of _ any _ Federation officer—this facility is working on _ highly _ classified weapons projects for the Federation, I’ll have your badge and pips if you do not break off your attack run _ now _!” 

“_ You’re welcome to try. Tess, you may fire at will. _” The facility shakes, and Lopez grabs a console for support with a curse. 

“That was phaser fire, shields holding!” the sensor man reports. 

“Shut that bitch off and open fire,” Lopez snaps. The viewscreen flicks off. “Shaw, take four men and get Subject 87 to the escape runabout.” One of the little toys Lopez’s team cooked up for this was a highly modified _ Flyer _-class cargo shuttle equipped with chroniton-integrated quantum slipstream drive and a Romulan cloaking device. It’s our best chance at getting the fuck out of here in a situation like this. 

“On it.” I point to two of Lopez’s security men. “You two, with me, we’ll pick up more along the way. Hope you fuckers can shoot straight.” The facility shudders again, and _ thrums _ as the orbital defense cannons fire back. “Move!” 

***

_ Eleya. USS _ Bajor _ bridge. _

The main phasers blaze out again and again, slamming into the base’s theatre shield to little effect. They’re at maximum power and we’re hardly denting it. The return fire isn’t doing much, either, but it’s doing _ something _: our forward shields are slowly weakening.

I didn’t want to use torpedoes in case we damaged the base, but we might not have a choice. “Tess, ready quantum torpedoes. Start with a pair, blast shapers to tight beam. Biri, Master Chief, scan them again, full power. Try to find the hardware for that shield.”

“Captain,” Lieutenant Esplin says, “got a response to your message to Starfleet Command. The _ Magellan _ and the _ Roanoke _ are on their way to assist, ETA thirty minutes.”

And to think, if I hadn’t been in such a hurry we could have hit them in force. Ah, well…

“Captain, I’m not finding anything beyond what we saw already,” Wiggin says from sensors.

“Well, _ something _ for damn sure isn’t right,” Biri shoots back. “We’re laying down enough energy to power a major city for a year and we’ve barely scratched that thing! Wait a minute.” She snaps her fingers. “Shield to make a starbase jealous, it’s gotta be cooled off somehow.”

“Biri, at the rate we’re going, we’ll lose _ our _ shields before that generator overheats,” Tess retorts.

“No, that’s not it! Master Chief, start an EM multispectral scan of the whole moon, and keep it running. Load Class I probes, target them here, here, here and here.” She highlights points in space on the main screen, bracketing the moon. “Tess, target a torpedo on some random part of the moon. Impact det, full power, blast shaper switched off, I don’t care where as long as you’re a few hundred kilometers away from the base.”

Tess looks at me as the ship shakes under another blast. “Captain?”

“Don’t worry, Tess, I think I know what she has in mind.”

She nods, still looking quizzical. “Loading probes. Probes launching.”

Biri nods after a moment. “Telemetry coming back. Fire the torpedo, Tess.”

The blue-white bolt shrieks out of the tube and into the lunar surface four hundred kilometers from the base, a single blinding flash that quickly dissipates in the vacuum.

So does the surface shockwave. But just because the shockwave isn’t visible to the naked eye doesn’t mean it’s not there anymore: the scans reveal the 80 megaton blast is making the whole moon ring like a bell, revealing the inner structure of the moon.

Including the pocket of underground ice kilometers beneath the base that they’re dumping their waste heat into. “Great idea, Biri! Conn, fire port thrusters fifteen seconds, I need a firing solution to dig underneath the base. Ready main ventral phaser for sustained burst!”

“Imagine what the neighbors will think,” Tess mutters.

My baby slides to starboard, just enough. “Tess, fire.”

The beam snaps out and drills into the lunar dust, melting and sublimating its way down through the surface. A minute passes, then two, and overheat alarms start to sound. I override them and try not to imagine the yard time I’m racking up.

Vaporizing methane and water suddenly gout back out of the hole, and Tess ceases fire. “Now what?”

I grin. “Now we fire a quantum torpedo down the hole and bust their entire cooling system.”

Tess bares her teeth. “Locked and firing.”

The entire base visibly shakes from the explosion, but at first there doesn’t seem to be any effect.

Then Tess targets the base a few more times and the shield abruptly fails. I hit the intercom. “Transporter room! Beam them in now!”

***

_ Lamont _ . _ Section 31 black site. _

My power-armored foot crashes once, twice, three times into the airlock’s inner door, and it crumples inwards. “We’re in!” I report over coms as I charge in, Kallio covering me with a DMR. If our phasers are set slightly above what’s normally considered heavy stun, well, nobody mentions it. 

Gantumur takes the lead, nailing one of the station’s black-jumpsuited security guards in the throat with her first shot. “Kallio, Hohenzollern, overwatch. Lamont, Li, take that corridor on the left.” 

“Roger.” Crewman Li Tamar falls in behind me, suited up in one of the new DUELIST hardsuits and holding a pistol-sized railgun that Engineering cooked up as a possible counter to Tzenkethi shield kits. For line infantry, this must be a field day. 

“Cover my ass,” I order the 2-C, and jog ahead, sweeping my gun up and turning as I reach the first door to the side. Empty except for some crates. “Storage. Move on.” 

“_ Keep an eye out for Lieutenant Connor, if you get her we can evac without taking out the transporter dampeners, _ ” Gantumur reminds someone over squad coms. “ _ Lamont, anything _?” 

“Not yet, sir.” The next door isn’t opening; the panel’s fused, looks locked from the inside. “Hold on. Li, cover me.” The lanky Bajoran nods, hugs the wall, pistol ready. “Watch the corner, too.” No sounds coming from that way, but better safe than sorry. 

“Yessir.” 

I shoulder my gun and ram my fingers in between the doors, ripping into the metal. I grunt with effort as I shove the doors outwards, my armor’s motorization screaming. “In, in!” 

Li ducks in and my shields fuzz as something hits them. Li’s pistol retorts, and someone yells with pain. 

“Security console!” Li calls out over coms, and I duck in, the doors slamming shut behind me. The Bajoran swears as his shields drop, and I pull my gun down to a firing position and snap off two shots in one fluid movement. A Section 31 goon crumples, and another ducks down behind the desk he’s using for cover. 

“You good?” 

“Armor’s singed, that’s all.” Li snaps off two more shots and overturns a desk for us to take cover. I level my gun at the other desk; one guy left, I think. 

“Cover me?” 

“Yessir.” I nod, and duck out, half-squatting awkwardly in my power armor, and the Section 31 guy pops up just long enough for Li to catch him in the shoulder, making him flip backwards and fall flat on his ass. 

“Cuff ‘em, I’ll get the console.” I key my coms. “Lieutenant Gantumur, we’ve got surveillance. Locating you now.” 

“_ Good, see if you can find Lieutenant Connor while you’re at it. _” 

“On it.” I tap at the keys—_ damn! _ “I see you, you’re headed towards the main lab facilities. Training areas on the left, cellblocks on your right, rooms behind the lab and hangar bay behind that. They’ve got a squad in power armor in the lab setting up defenses, about twelve hostiles, team of five headed for the cellblock.” 

“_ Get down to the cellblock, now. Li, take over on the security feed. Kallio, Luiz, K’tar, Hohenzollern, head for the cellblock and stop that squad _.” 

“I’m sealing you in,” I tell Li. He nods, and switches his rebreather on. I force the doors shut, melt them together with my phaser, and hoof it for the cellblock. “Gantumur, I sealed Li in case a couple of them get around somehow. Moving for the cellblock.” 

“_ Good, keep up the pace _.” I snap my gun up as I turn a corner—Luiz, with two marksmen and K’tar behind him. 

“Evening, boys.” 

“Chief,” Luiz grunts, the others falling in behind me. 

“_ Lamont, this is Li, they’ve made it into the cellblock. Two covering the corridor, two covering a cell, one putting the code in. Grunts are in power armor, the other’s in what looks like an Interceptor suit, female, red-haired looks like a Human, running facial rec now. _” 

“Got it.” I nod to Luiz. “Rush ‘em?” 

“Seems the only way, we’re low on time.” 

“Right. K’tar, prep the shield generator. Kallio, Hohenzollern, cover our asses. Breach in 3. 2. 1.” 

Luiz and I ram into the doors and crash through, ducking into a roll. Phaser fire rips into my shields, but K’tar supercharges the capacitors from a sympathetic generator and sets a portable charge module down with his next move. I bring my gun up, a heavy-duty compression beam rifle developed during Delta Rising for the trench warfare we had out there, and snap off two shots, Kallio’s DMR and Hohenzollern’s standard-issue full auto rifle covering the corridor ahead. 

The woman ducks low as one of the goons covering the cell falls under heavy stun blasts. Luiz gets his gun up, the shield generator keeping our shields intact under a heavy barrage of kill shots, and Hohenzollern and Kallio stay low, K’tar spooling up another toy from his kit. 

Luiz brought along a little something we’ve been tinkering with for over three months as his main weapon. We took a vote and “Boolean cannon” won for what to call it, it’s essentially a wing mount from a heavily damaged Klingon bird of prey salvaged during an op during the Iconian war, sawed off and modified for personal use. It’s over four feet long, nearly impossible to lift and completely impossible to use without power armor, and it overheats easily because half of the coolant system had to be stripped to keep it portable. 

The benefit of this beauty, of course, is the raw heat that chars the walls and ceiling ahead of us, tearing through the goon squad’s shields and sending them stumbling backwards in one hit. 

I’m on my feet again, charging for the cell. The woman’s on her feet with lightning speed, and I shoulder my gun, drawing my service knife with one fluid movement. 

Redhead is faster, even in nonpowered armor. She grins as she easily blocks my first strike, dodging my follow-up punch like greased lightning and headbutting me so hard I stumble backwards. _ Darn it to heck! _ It’s like fighting the Lieutenant, I’m physically outclassed. 

“Nice try, pal, but I left the realm of needing power armor behind a long-ass time ago.” Voice rec pings my helmet, and a Top Ten Most Wanted alert activates on the side of my HUD. I’m too busy doing the sensible thing, leaping backwards and crouching low, allowing Kallio and Hohenzollern to snap off more shots at Redhead. Her shields hold—she must have a capacitor on her, that armor’s been modded—and I glance at the Intel alert as I grab my pistol with my free hand, snapping off two shots that she tanks on her shield and armor. Ellen Shaw. I know the name—one of the biggest embarrassments in MACO history. 

“Was that before or after you betrayed your country?” I challenge. Luiz’s gun’ll spool up in another couple of seconds but he can’t fire with me in the way. _ Damn _ it. Rookie mistake, Lamont, you’re a senior noncom, you _ know _ better! 

Shaw snarls with rage and lunges, gripping my throat with a leather-gloved hand and lifting me easily. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you, Buster. So did the augment, before I got done with it.” 

“If you hurt Lieutenant Connor, there is no God-damned planet in this galaxy where you can hide from us,” I snarl. “You’d better hope that you’re as good as you think, Shaw.” 

My gorget fractures, and warning sirens blare across my HUD. “Fuck it,” Shaw sneers, “I think I’ll just kill you.” 

Electricity courses through me, and Shaw screams, a blue crackle arcing over her skin. I drop, limbs numb despite the insulation on the inside of my suit. “_ You fucking… _” 

I pull my knife up and ram it into the side of her head. It’s a triple-hardened carbide-coated blade, it’ll cut anything short of a starship hull. It _ slides _ against Shaw’s skull instead of sinking in, and rips a jagged gash across her right side. Cold metal glints through the blood and flesh, and Shaw howls. 

“Sorry about that, sir,” K’tar grunts over coms. “Figured a little pain was better than death.” 

“No problem, I…” Shaw recovers _ fast _, sweeps under my follow-up fist and rights herself, one leg hooking me off-balance and the other sending a heel ramming into my chest. Fault lines explode across it and my HUD blares another, louder warning. Two of Shaw’s minions are getting up, weapons ready. 

“Soak the corridor!” I snap, and damn the risk. But two of Shaw’s goons are already up; Luiz curses in Spanish, something about Shaw’s mother being a nasty word who enjoyed congress with Trumpists, and K’tar’s shield pylon bursts under fire from the goons. Shaw stands, grinning down at me, and casually steps on my chest. 

“Nice try,” the cyborg chuckles, skin hanging halfway off her right temple. “But not good enough. Keep me covered!” Those guns are good and we’re in bad positions, didn’t have enough momentum; I grapple at Shaw’s leg, but she must’ve maglocked herself to my suit, because she doesn’t budge. “You don’t have the guts to defend your country properly,” Shaw sneers down at me. “This is for the good of the Federation!” She leans over and types the access code into the cell, her surviving goons moving up the corridor, back-and-forth fire snapping past inches from an unflinching Shaw…

A hundred and twenty kilos of supercharged, buck-naked augment muscle slams into her throat, and Shaw screams in anger. “How the _ fuck _ did she break the restraints? Gah!” Her face rips again, and she throws the Lieutenant off, but it doesn’t help. The Lieutenant grabs one of Shaw’s goons and snaps his neck like a twig, then throws him into Shaw with an inhuman scream, and Kallio takes advantage of the confusion to snipe the other guy. The Lieutenant jumps for Shaw, but the cyborg’s faster, and I hear a crunch of ribs as the first punch hits the Lieutenant, the follow-up knocking her flat on her ass on top of me just as I try to stand. 

“_ Fuck _ you!” Shaw shouts, and then she’s running, and the Boolean gun _ thrums _, and a stretch of the ceiling gouges open. Shaw’s at the end of the corridor in a dead run before the sound’s faded, the doors barely opening for her in time, and the Lieutenant screams in inarticulate pain from on top of me. 

Thank God I have the presence of mind to report this. “Gantumur, this is Lamont, we have Lieutenant Connor! Enemy cyborg supersoldier deployed, advise exercising caution!” Then I turn my attention to the Lieutenant. “Sir! It’s us, Unit 131 from the _ Bajor _ !” She thrashes, snarling incoherently, and I grab for her wrists. “Help me hold her, Luiz! Sir! Calm down, you’re safe!” _ Jesus, Mary, and Joseph _, what did they do to her? Her eyes are bloodshot and half-crazed with fear and pain, there’s visible armor plating still sticking out from parts of her, and her breasts are covered with the stuff and look misshapen—how badly did they hurt her for it to be this bad? 

“Lamont?” She’s looking every which way, still struggling against me, and with my armor this damaged I have no hope of holding her. “No. No, it’s a trick, Shaw’ll come back…” 

I depolarize my visor with a blink command, and force the Lieutenant down. “Sir! It’s me, it’s really me. We’re all here, with Hohenzollern from Gantumur’s team.” 

“_ Lamont, what the Hell is going on? _” 

“We’ve found Lieutenant Connor, Ma’am, she’s been tortured, looks starved too.” 

“_ On our way. _” 

“Watch out for the cyborg—she’s Ellen Shaw, #6 on Most Wanted.” 

“_ Oh, that’s just bloody fabulous. Watch the angles, Mok! _” 

The Lieutenant’s hand grips my helmet, and I pull back the visor. “Shit. You came. You actually…” She shudders. “Oh fuck. I… I can’t… I was doing what they wanted, they promised the pain would stop if I obeyed…” 

“Get her back to the LZ,” I order Kallio. “Take the kid and get going, we’ll go after Shaw.” 

“Sir!” 

“Go with Kallio, sir,” I tell my boss. “He’ll keep you safe. K’tar, you got a…” 

“Here,” the Klingon confirms, passing the Lieutenant a compact foil blanket. She accepts it with a shaking hand, and I realize that that’s dried blood on her arms. Hers, or someone else’s? Mother of God. 

“Lamont to _ Bajor _, do you read?” 

“Bajor _ here _,” the Captain growls in my coms. 

“Ma’am, we have located and recovered Lieutenant Connor. She’s in bad shape, recommend direct transport to Sickbay the moment she’s out of the jammer range.” 

“_ Understood, Chief, _ Bajor _ out. _” 

I wave Luiz and K’tar ahead. “Keep it together, boys. Luiz, how’re we doing on that cannon?” 

“Six spare power cells, this one’s half-drained,” he reports. 

“Alright. K’tar, check the other cells just in case.” I bring up the map again on my HUD. “Shaw’s probably headed for the shuttlebay. If we push, we can take it and hopefully stop her from taking off.” 

“Guess this thing’s good for something, then,” Luiz chuckles. 

I grin at that in spite of myself. “Worth lugging it along, at least. Let’s move.” 

I kick the door at the end of the corridor open, leaving sparking wires in my wake, and take point as K’tar activates a combat hoverdrone and Luiz hauls the Boolean cannon up. “Down here!” The next door swishes open…

“¿_ Qué diablos _?” Luiz mutters. It’s an exact replica of the temporary government chambers in Jerusalem, complete with Secretary Shad sitting at his desk. 

“Holodeck. They must’ve been using the Tal’Shiar method the Rommies reported. Simulated kills for conditioning.” My mouth tastes bitter. Sons of… I shoot out the ceiling, then the walls, and the sim fades into nothing as the circuits fry. “Keep moving.” 

The holodeck has two entrances, so we go out the other; we’re getting close to the cargo bay and the sounds of combat are starting to quiet behind us. My onboard sensors pick something up. 

“Life signs ahead. Looks like Shaw and two others. Move!” 

We charge, K’tar’s drone keeping pace and Luiz swearing under his breath as he has to throw the Boolean gun over his shoulder to carry it at this pace. My suit picks up a loud curse from ahead--Shaw must’ve heard us. 

“I’ll breach, K’tar, cover me!” He grunts assent, and I lower my shoulder, breaking into a charge. I’ve got about ten kilos and three centimeters on the Klingon, though I’m still a shrimp next to Luiz, who’s darn near a giant towering over two meters. The door looks like civilian-grade, so hopefully I won’t…

I hit the door, and it buckles around my armor. I still stumble through, and phaser fire rips into my shields, setting off red HUD warnings as I hit the ground. 

“Fucking kill them!” Shaw shouts. I roll, and her tritanium-boned foot slams into the deck where my head was a second ago. 

“Luiz, take down the shuttle!” I roar as K’tar and the hoverdrone lay down covering fire, Shaw swearing as she’s forced to duck sideways. There’s two other people here—security guy in black leather and a stab vest, who goes down in one hit from K’tar, and a slim intel type in a longcoat who’s bolting for the shuttle. 

“Lopez, you son of a bitch!” Shaw turns and sprints for the shuttle. She’s insanely fast, at least as fast as the Lieutenant, probably even faster since she has a couple of extra inches. 

“Luiz!” I shout, pulling myself up to hands and squatting legs. 

“On it!” 

Shaw reaches the side hatch of the shuttle before Lopez, and grabs something from the inside. Luiz’s Boolean gun hits the peak of its cycle…

Shaw shoots him in the shoulder with a projectile railgun, and he howls in pain, the Boolean gun’s shot carving a massive tear in the side of the shuttlebay. Shaw hangs on to the shuttle, but Lopez is pulled sideways by the sudden evacuation, slamming into the wall before the forcefield goes up and he slumps to the ground. 

“K’tar, help Luiz! I’m going for Shaw!” I power to my feet, charging for the shuttle. Shaw’s eyes dart to Lopez, and she sneers, then ducks inside the shuttle, shutting the hatch. 

“Damn!” I swear, surprising myself, and skid to a halt as the shuttle skips its preflight checks and powers up and off the ground. “_ Bajor _, this is Lamont, there’s a shuttle leaving the base, Ellen Shaw’s inside!” 

“_ Copy that, strike to disable! _” 

But then, _ impossibly _ , the _ Flyer _ -class cargo shuttle shimmers and _ cloaks _ before my eyes, and I see only a slight blur in the air as it jets out, the backdraft knocking me flat on my ass even with my maglocked boots. “She’s got a cloak!” 

“_ Scan for tachyons! _” 

But it’s too late. I see a brief flash of light as the shuttle goes to warp, and Shaw’s gone. 

***

_ Eleana _ . _ USS _ Bajor _ medbay. _

“Oh, _ Sef _ ! Rachel, no, _ no _ , oh Sef why…” I take one step into Sickbay and Chief Lamont’s moving away from the bed, the biobed where Rachel is so _ thin _ and pale and covered in blood and bits of reddish-brown armor plates, and my eyes are going blurry and I don’t know _ what to do _ besides run to her and hold her close. 

“Keep her out of here!” Wirrpanda orders. “Watkins, feeding tube and liquid supplements, now!” 

Lamont grabs me around the shoulders and hauls me back. “Breathe,” he rumbles, and I realize that he’s got blood, _ Rachel’s blood _, on his armor, eating into the plastic, and I can feel the roiling tempest of emotions that he’s trying to sit on and hold back and my knees are weak and I can barely string a thought together. “Breathe,” comes the growl again. “Just stay calm, she’s gonna make it.” 

“_ What did they do to her? _” 

“We’re still finding out. Torture, at the minimum.” 

“Oh, _ Sef _…” He holds me up, and he’s shaking a little too in the armor. “Why would they do that to her?” 

“Cardassian techniques wouldn’t be enough, not for what they wanted. And she still feels pain, so it was an option and those bastards took it.” He spits it, disgust audible as well as tangible to my mind. 

“But _ why _ ? What did she know that they would do _ that _ for?” 

“It’s not information,” Lamont replies. “MACOs are trained to resist enhanced interrogation. They tortured her to break her. _ That’s _ a lot harder to resist since you can’t hang on to the secret to keep your personhood. They wanted to break her and re-train her as a controllable asset, probably to clone her as well.” 

Those sick _ bastards _. “Oh, Sef. Will she…” 

“She’ll heal. Doc’s just trying to keep her stable so she doesn’t metabolize all of her muscle, we don’t know what happens if she starts eating her own organs.” The big Human holds me gently, and I feel three other minds come up behind us. 

“The Section 31 guy’s in the brig,” Petty Officer Kallio reports. “Slimy one, pretending to be all suave and confident, but he’s got piss in his sock if I know anything about reading people.” 

“No sign of their ship, though,” the biggest MACO, Luiz, reports, his arm in a sling. “They were using a cloaking device, probably ripped off of a bird of prey. Vanished without a trace.” 

“Bet the Captain’s like a bear shot in the ass,” Kallio quips. “What about Shaw?” 

“Shaw?” I ask. I feel a dark mental cloud occlude the squad’s minds. 

“One of the Section 31 goons was Ellen Shaw,” Lamont explains. “Ex-MACO. We think she’s the one who actually did the torture. She was heavily modified, cyborg, kicked our asses and ran.” 

I wipe a hand over my eyes, trying to calm myself down. “What exactly did they _ do _ to Rachel? How badly is she hurt? Does Doctor Wirrpanda know?” 

“Not yet.” Lamont growls. “It looked bad. Trust me, we should wait until they’re done in there.” 

_ Sef _ . I want to _ do _ something, anything, to help. Rationally, I know there’s nothing I can do, but...my girlfriend’s in there, covered in her own blood on a biobed. 

“Is she alright mentally?” I make myself ask it, already suspecting the response. 

“I don’t think so,” Lamont replies quietly. “She was disoriented and confused when we found her. And she implied that she broke under torture.” 

“This is going to take therapy,” I realize. “She won’t like that.” 

Lamont grimaces. “No. No, she won’t.” 

“Do we make her do it?” Luiz asks. The Klingon, K’tar, shakes his head. 

“Bad idea.” 

“I agree,” I put in. “Maybe encourage her, but she’ll put up walls. We need to wait for them to break down.” 

Kallio swears in Finnish. “I don’t like it.” 

“That makes five of us,” Luiz rumbles. 

“Give me a call if she breaks down,” I tell Lamont. “And, Mr. K’tar, I need your help setting something up on the holodeck…” 

***

_ Shaw. Interstellar space. _

I step into the wardroom and buzz up the QEC. A shadowed figure appears, voice garbled through a computer. “_ Operator Shaw _.” 

“Deputy Director. Mission went FUBAR. We broke the augment, but she kept enough of herself to rebel, and that crazy Bajoran dropped about thirty men on the facility with orbom to take out the defenses. I was lucky to get out.” 

“_ Operative Lopez _?” 

“Captured or dead. I think the MACOs got him.” 

The voice pauses. My fingers flex, the pistons moving smoothly inside me as I stew. Then, 

“_ I presume that the weapon has been lost? _” 

“Fleet got her. MACO unit, hers, number 131. Nothing special, buncha jarheads with a few fancy toys. Want me to kill ‘em?” 

“_ No. Unnecessary risk for minimal reward. Redeployment instructions will be forwarded to you within three days. Change your cover identity and dye your hair, consider minor facial prosthetics. _” 

Shit. “My cover’s blown?” 

“_ Potentially. Starfleet Intelligence is aware that you are active in this sector. We’re moving you to the Romulan border tomorrow pending further operations. _” 

I grimace. “Fantastic. Keep me posted on that aug, will you? I want a rematch.” 

“_ We will do what is necessary. Take the shuttle to the Donatu system. There will be a ship waiting there _.” 

“Great. Have a nice day.” I kill the comm and mutter a curse as I step out of the wardroom. These shitty little _ Flyer _-classes don’t have much headroom. 

_ What a fucking disaster of a mission _. 

***

_ Rachel _ . _ USS _ Bajor _ crew quarters, one week later. _

I wake up with a guttural scream cut short, covered in sweat. My sheets are torn to shreds in my hands, and my breath comes in gasps. 

Lamont’s head pokes up from the bunk below. “You need anything, sir?” 

I shake my head. “Nah. No. Just...bad dream.” 

“Kills, or torture?” 

“Shaw.” 

He grunts sympathetically. “Want me to call Ensign Valen, or break out the _ tlhInSa _ board?” 

“Nah. I’m just...I’ll tough it out, I’m a big girl. Ain’t gonna break from a few bad dreams.” 

“It happens to the best of us,” he points out. “And you just got back from some pretty serious abuse. You need anything, you know we’re here. Ensign Valen too, for that matter.” 

“Yeah. I know.” I hug my knees close and duck my head, then let out a breath and look up. “Fuck. Am I doing the right thing out here? Pretending to be a person?” 

“You know the answer to that.” 

I shake my head. “I know I can control it, at least normally, instincts can be beaten by discipline--but they’re still _ there _ . Underneath the me that makes me _ me _.” My breath shudders out again. “Shaw brought that out.” 

“She tortured you pretty badly. Wanting to see her die in pain doesn’t make you an animal.” 

“I tried to _ bite _ her. I wanted to taste her blood.” I spit it out. Luiz and Kallio are up now, K’tar pretending to still be asleep. 

“And I want to see her choking to death in an airlock, who gives a rat’s behind?” He stands, throws an arm around me, and I lean into his shoulder. 

“I could’ve knocked him out. That guard I killed. We could’ve interrogated him. Should’ve.” 

“You held back on Lopez when we hauled him to the brig. That’s enough.” 

“I killed people when I could’ve avoided it.” 

“And?” 

“I’m pretty fucking sure that’s a bad thing.” 

“At the most barebones level, without any nuance, true. But they _ were _ armed, and you were pressed for time and in an active firefight. Whether it was _ right _ or not—I don’t know either. Maybe not. But it wasn’t _ wrong _, not entirely.” 

I raise an eyebrow at him. “You taking up philosophy on me, Lamont?” 

“What? I read in my spare time.” He pats me on the back. “Besides, my retirement plan’s to be a DI at the Academy, and if you want to teach you have to learn a bit of how brains work. Maybe you should spend the night with your girl. This space probably has too many of the wrong connotations.” 

“I know this cot. I’ll sleep better here.” 

“And you know blood and sweat and pain, too. You work out of this room, you think about work out of this room, it might not be the best place when you’re still recovering.” I stop at that, thinking. “Just a suggestion. You do what you need to do, sir.” 

“Yeah.” I clutch my head. “Fuck this shit.” I roll out of bed and stumble to our chest of drawers, rummaging through my drawer for a shirt and some pants; for once, I’m sleeping in underwear, I couldn’t make myself take them off without my hands shaking uselessly. “I’m hitting the gym, you boys get back to your shut-eye.” 

***

_ Rachel _

My fist tears through the bag, and I mutter a curse. Shaw’s words taunt me in my head. 

_ Heel, bitch _ . I feel the leash jerk at my neck. _ You’re an expensive attack dog. Nothing more. _I snarl and punch the ruined bag again, and it rips again, swaying dangerously on the hanger. 

It’s been a week. A fucking _ week _. And I still can’t shake Ellen Shaw. 

“Computer, replace the bag with a fresh one.” There’s a beep, and the bag dematerializes momentarily as the holoprojector deals with it. I take the moment to drink from my bottle, careful with my razor teeth on the mouthpiece. _ Subject 87 will terminate the target _ . I slam the bottle down and tear into the bag again, trying to shut out the voices. _ Subject 87 will comply or it will be returned to processing for treatment. _

_ C’mon, Lopez, just let me whip the subject a little, you gotta break a dog in properly if you want it to be obedient. _

The bag goes flying off the hanger, and I step back, panting. “Son of a…” 

_ Subject has complied as instructed. Simulated target terminated. Simulation attempt 5 completed _. Lopez’s voice is cold, completely emotionless, and I feel a ghost of Shaw’s fingers on my cheek. 

_ Good dog. Just stay obedient and you won’t get the whip. _

I pinch my nose, growling deep in my throat as I try to fight off the memories. I shouldn’t be this fucking weak, it’s been the better part of a month and still I keep hearing Shaw and Lopez…

_ We’re gonna have so much fun, just you and me. You’re a pretty puppy, in a butch kinda way, dress you up all slutty and I’ll have a good time with you in between missions. _

_ Operator Shaw, discipline, _ please _ . Do not sexualize the weapon, we must establish complete conditioned control before deviating from protocol. _

My insides hurt, and I feel dirty down there, skin crawling. My hands are at my temples, pressing as I close my eyes, breath coming in gasps. I stumble backwards…

Someone catches me. I spin, inhaling deep, teeth bared and arms up. 

“I wondered when it’d come to this,” Eleana Valen says, gently gripping my wrists and slowly tugging them down to my sides. She smells soft, warm and familiar, my superhuman senses feeding back cinnamon for some reason. Remans and Trill smell funny and my nervous system still doesn’t quite know how to cope with my enhanced sense of smell, even years after I woke up an aug. “Doctor Wirrpanda let me know you were using the holodeck off-hours, and Mr. Lamont said you were having a tough time.” 

“I...uh…” I lick my lips, conscious of the sweat running down my face, my back, between my tits. Eleana cups my cheek, gently, and I shudder. 

“Shaw touched you, didn’t she?” Her voice simmers with barely-contained rage. 

I wince and look aside. She gently turns my face back to her, eyes wide and wet. “Oh, baby.” 

“I...she stuck a thing in there. And then her fingers.” My face is wet, vision blurry. I realize that I’m crying. “She cut me up, and she cut me down there, and she had me, there was a leash, and they kept me naked…” 

Eleana holds me close as I sob into her, cradling my bulkier form awkwardly to her chest. “Ssshhh, sshhh, shhhh. I’m here, Rachel, I’m here.” 

“I’m just fucking _ meat _! A fucking guard dog on legs!” 

“No, you’re not.” She’s running her fingers gently through my quarter-inch hair. “You’re a powerful, beautiful, intelligent woman. You survived a week in hell and you’ll kick Ellen Shaw into a plasma conduit the next time you meet her.” 

“I _ broke _,” I sob into her shoulder. My whole body’s shuddering. “I don’t even know how long I lasted. She went at me until I stopped screaming, and then they locked me back up to adapt and reabsorb it, and she went at it again, and again, and I broke. I told them what they wanted to hear and did what they wanted. I was just a machine following orders.” 

“And that’s _ never _ going to happen again,” she promises me, guiding me to the ground in the corner of the holodeck, her back against the wall, me sort of half across her. “C’mon.” She kisses my forehead, soft and gentle. “Show me those eyes.” 

I force myself to look up, still blurry from the tears. Her fingers ghost over my face, stroking some of the tears from me, and she leans in to kiss my forehead again. “Ellen Shaw will never hurt you again. I promise you that.” 

“They got me in _ public _. Where the hell can I be safe?” 

“This is a battleship, and a high-profile one. We’ll keep you safe on board, and Captain Kanril can make sure that things like this don’t happen again, with extra patrols, sensor locks, things like that.” She brushes against my ear with her nose. “I think you’ll be using the transporter to get to and from shore leave a lot more, too, at least for a bit. And Commander Riyannis told me that Captain Kanril’s contacted Starfleet Intelligence; those filthy Zurich laws won’t let their JAG reps prep a sentient-rights case, but they _ can _ convict Shaw under cruelty to…” She stops, and I feel her grimace, but my mind fills the word _ animals _ in, and I clutch her tighter. “I’m sorry, baby. Shaw was already looking at fifty years for murder and dereliction of duty, after what was done to you in that place… she’s never getting out after she’s caught.” 

“I feel so fucking _ weak _,” I confess. “I should’ve been stronger, I should’ve…” 

“You’re already dealing with deep-seated internalized racism, and self-loathing so bad it was sabotaging your performance for a few months. The evil _ wortir _ who _ imirrhlhhse _ pigs that did this to you, they took advantage of that, and for that we’re going to hunt them down.” She squeezes me, gentle but firm, and part of me notes the rough Reman pronunciation of her heavily slurred Romulan words; god those sound good coming from her, a sort of rhythmic reassurance that she’s here and she’s _ different _ and she’ll keep me safe anyway. “You’ll bounce back from this, I know you will. You’re too strong to let a few scummy little terrorists knock you down.” 

“I love you,” I blurt out. She chuckles and tips my chin up to look me in the eyes. 

“I know.” 

I kiss her, and I’m still sweaty and crying and shaking and a mess, but just in this moment, I can forget Shaw, forget that fucking cell, and I can settle in this wonderful woman's arms and be _ safe _. 

Eleana takes me, carries me in her arms, really, I keep forgetting that she’s stronger than a Human from her Reman dad, back to her room—her roommate’s out, apparently, must be getting laid—and helps me through the shower. It’s not easy, and I almost break down as shame and weakness try to overwhelm me, but she’s there and I think she’s trying as best she can to subtly push on my emotions with her limited empathic powers, and she just holds me and whispers softly in my ear until I have control of myself and can finish getting clean. She replicates me some soft stuff to wear, I normally sleep in the raw but I just can’t, not now, and even wearing underwear and pretending everything’s OK I can barely stand. Eleana helps me dress, soft and gentle and taking it slow as I try not to cry, then she takes me to bed, curling herself around my back, and I tuck my knees up and half-turn my head to just breathe her scent in as she wraps a protective arm around me. 

“Good night, Rachel,” she whispers to me. “I’ll protect you all night, I promise, and I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

***

_ Rachel _

“The Hell you mean you’re not letting me in? I _ outrank _ both of you!” 

“Sir, Petty Officer Luiz and I were mandated to report last night’s events to the Captain,” Lamont replies, blocking the holodeck door with his arms crossed. “The Captain has judged you unfit for duty, and has ordered you barred from training for the day. She also wants to see you in her ready room.” 

“_ Fuck _ unfit, I can still throw a punch…” 

“Sir, Captain Kanril has explicitly ordered that you be sent to her ready room at once.” Lamont’s staring right over my head, the bastard. 

“This had _ better _ be on the fucking level or I’m going to be fucking _ pissed _ ,” I snarl. I just want to fucking _ kill _ something, let out the aug urges that Shaw stimulated, let it out on harmless light and forcefields…

When I reach her office, the Captain’s got her arms crossed, standing against the wall behind her desk. 

“Lieutenant. Have a seat.” 

I pull up a chair. “Ma’am? What’s this about?” 

“Ensign Valen told me about what happened last night.” She pushes off the wall and takes a seat behind her desk. “I also saw some of the recordings that Crewman Li got off of the computers in that Section 31 base.” 

“Ma’am, I can keep it under control…” It’s a lie, and she knows it instantly as well as I do. 

“Bullshit,” she cuts me off. “And even if it weren’t, I’d react the same way. Bottling trauma up only makes it worse. I’m _ ordering _ you on light duty for a month, with mandatory meetings every other day with Doc Shree personally. I need you at your _ best _ . Not at your _ approximation of functional _.” 

She swivels her desktop monitor around so I can see it. “You know, I was wondering how much being an augment had affected your career. I went back to your Academy grades, found your Advanced Tactics final. A couple of comments here stuck out. ‘Insightful’, ‘creative’, ‘shows situational and strategic awareness and command potential’.” 

“Honestly, ma’am, I did that on about three hours of sleep and about half the LD-50 dose of caffeine for someone my body weight.” 

“My point stands.” She leans forwards, resting her elbows on the desk. “Even without the augments, you’ve got a _ brain _ that works damn well. Sure, Franklin Drake and his _ phekk’ta _ toadies tried to take your body from you, but they couldn’t take your mind. I mean, son of a wraith, they even _ can’t _ take that from you because of the augmentation.” She pokes at my chest, right over the heart. “ _ You _ have the power here, they can only have your mind if you _ give _ it to ‘em. But you can also go take that month on light duty and deal with stuff, and when we track Shaw down we’ll lock her up in 4028 for the rest of her life to get you some closure. 

“I don’t need your _ body _ , Lieutenant. I need your _ mind _, and I need it in peak condition. And I know how much trauma can do to a person.” She pushes back a bit in her seat and pulls her jacket and undershirt up to her breasts. The entire right side of her belly is a mass of scar tissue, with two puckers in the center from some kind of two-bladed knife. “I was nineteen, my first face-to-face firefight ever. Orion matron tried to gut me with a poisoned knife. I still sometimes have nightmares. I was put on mandatory leave for a week until the docs cleared me.” 

“Sorry to hear that, ma’am.” 

She nods, tucking her shirt back into her waistband. “I heard from Ensign Valen the basics of what Shaw did to you. I cannot in good conscience order you into combat right now, and you _ know _ why. I’m giving you permission-- _ and _ an order--to work through it.” 

“Ma’am…” I try to say _ I can push through _ but the lie catches in my throat. “I…” My eyesight blurs from the tears and I look away with a muted sob. 

“It’s alright to need help,” Captain Kanril says, standing up and moving around the table. Her hand rests on my shoulder, firm but gentle. “We’re going to get you closure. You’re going to fight back.” 

“I should’ve lasted longer,” I bite out. “I should’ve… SERE training includes simulated torture, I was trained to deal with that shit.” 

“You were trained in _ short-term _ ability to think through pain to feed an interrogator consistent-sounding bullshit,” she corrects me. “Nobody’s trained to withstand purposeful dehumanization.” I hear her rub her forehead with a slight groan. “Look, I’m not the best at this. The closest I went through was being mind-wiped and made to fight, and even then they didn’t… Well, one of them threatened but… Not what Shaw did.” 

“She hurt me down there,” I whisper. “She took that from me, like they took my body, and then she and that psycho freak Lopez took my mind. They weren’t supposed to take my mind.” 

The Captain’s grip tightens. “Lieutenant, I won’t go to JAG about that particular matter without your permission. But… do I have your permission to include aggravated rape in the list of charges for Shaw?” 

I shake my head. “It wasn’t rape, maybe bestiality but that isn’t covered outside of some—” 

“_ Sher hahr kosst! _ ” She yanks my chair around, and I can’t help but look up, and oh _ shit _, Kanril Eleya is a very, very angry woman right now, the crisp, spicy smell of Bajoran rage assaulting my hypersensitive nostrils as she fumes, arms crossed and jaw twitching angrily. “Listen to yourself for a second!” 

I jerk back in my chair, then duck my head in shame. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” I bite at my lip, a bad habit that I thought I broke, and taste my own blood. “Shit. I’m sorry, I just… the law is the law, I’m not a person. I can’t… I don’t think past that sometimes. And she, Shaw, she…” I shudder. I’m on heavy meds, so my body’s not reacting, thank god, but the way my gut’s churning it might as well be. “She and Lopez wanted to make me think like an animal. To train me up like some kind of fucking _ attack dog _. And I started doing it, I tried to not do it but then Shaw, she…” 

“I read Doctor Wirrpanda’s report.” I nod, shaking. She offers me a hand up, and I hesitantly take it. “You did fine. Jean-Luc Picard himself damn near broke after a week or two of Cardassian torture, and that was mostly sleep and food deprivation. Honestly I’m a little surprised you’re still sane after what you went through.” She offers me open arms. “You need a hug?” 

I find myself nodding, eyes blurring out again. The Captain’s arms are firm as she pats me on the back. “Now get your ass down to Doc Shree, and I don’t want to see your face above decks for a month, got it?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She grabs my shoulder, gentle but firm again. “You’re going to get better, Lieutenant. Trust me on this.” 

I wish I could completely believe it. 


End file.
